


How (A)romantic

by violasarecool



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Aromantic, Gen, Red Hawke, aromantic varric, background mention of hawke/isabela, ignores da:i
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 22:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17671475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violasarecool/pseuds/violasarecool
Summary: varric never has a shortage of stories about bianca's origins—heisa writer after all. but a story can serve multiple purposes.





	How (A)romantic

"Hey, Varric," Carver said one evening as they sat at a small table in the Hanged Man, "why's your crossbow named _Bianca_ , anyway? Bit of a strange name for a weapon."

"Is it?" Varric said. "Humans give _ships_ people names all the time."

"I guess," Carver said. He took a gulp of his beer, watching as a regular staggered through. "I would've thought you'd want something a bit more... impressive-sounding, though."

"What for? To _strike fear_ into the hearts of my enemies?"

Carver shrugged. "Or something."

"Junior, if your _attack_ doesn't strike fear into people's hearts, the name of your weapon isn't going to do the trick. I mean, how do they even know what it's called? Are you going to introduce your weapon to a bunch of bandits in an alley before you kill them?"

"Well when you put it _that_ way..." He chugged down the rest of his beer, then clunked it back down on the table with a sigh. "I need at least one more beer before we go. Either of you having more?" he joked, nodding at Varric's crossbow.

"I think Bianca's good," Varric said, "she's a cheap date. I'll stay for another, though."

* * *

"Bianca," Fenris said.

"Yeees?" Varric replied, voice pitched up in what Fenris assumed was supposed to be _Bianca's_ voice.

Fenris gave him an unimpressed look. "Why is it called Bianca?" he clarified.

"Why not?" Varric placed down a card on the table: Wicked Grace, a game that had already become something of a ritual on most nights. "Go, Aveline."

"I don't know," Aveline said, "I think I'd rather hear your explanation, first." Beside her, Hawke lowered his cards with an amused look.

Varric sighed dramatically. "Oh, alright. She's named after my late mother, may the Maker rest her soul."

"Your _mother?"_ Aveline exclaimed, giving him a baffled look. "That's... a nice way to remember her, I... suppose?"

"Bullshit," Hawke said.

Varric grinned. "Yeah, I'm just messing with you. I named her Bianca after this one spy I knew from Starkhaven—hell of a woman, could handle a blade like nobody's business. Almost got skewered the first time we met, but that was just a misunderstanding."

"What, does that happen to you very often?" Fenris asked dryly.

"More often than I'd like, that's for sure," Varric said, shaking his head. "Anyway, we'd been working together for a while when we took a job from this nobleman with a rival in the merchant's guild. Had us trail an employee of said rival on the suspicion that she was going to break into his warehouses. He was right, of course, but the woman gave us the slip; we chased her halfway across town and over a couple of ships halfway out of dock before she made off in a little fishing boat." Varric took a leisurely drink of his beer. _"We_ managed to end up on a ship occupied by several pissed off pirates."

"Is that so," Aveline said, eyebrows raised.

"It's true!" Varric protested. "Just ask Isabela."

"The fact that you said that makes me believe you _less,"_ Aveline said.

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Hawke said, and Varric grinned, "what does that have to do with Bianca?"

"Well," Varric said, "my partner from Starkhaven said she had a plan, and I said it'd have to be one hell of a plan to get us out of _this_ one, and she said it was, but I'd have to trust her, and _I_ said that frankly I'd name my first born child after her if we could just finish this damn contract in one piece. Which, obviously we did," he said, gesturing vaguely at himself, "since I'm still here." Varric nodded at Aveline. "I believe it's your turn," he said, gesturing with his cards.

"Boo," Hawke said, at the same time as Fenris said "What about the pirates?"

"Next time Aveline wins a hand, I'll finish the story," Varric said.

"So never, then," Hawke shot.

"Hey!"

* * *

"Why's it called Bianca?" Merrill asked one afternoon. "Is it named after someone you knew?"

"Now why would I name a crossbow after a person, Daisy?" A couple steps behind them, Hawke gave him a narrow look, and he winked.

"I don't know," Merill said, "maybe to honour someone you lost?"

"Well, you're close. She's actually named after my old pet Mabari."

"You had a Mabari?" Merrill gasped. Hawke gave an exasperated grunt. "She must have been almost as big as you!"

"Well, she certainly didn't think so. She loved jumping up into people's laps like she only weighed a couple pounds. Could knock over tables if she wasn't careful—which, being a dog and all, she never was."

Hawke leaned over as Merrill laughed. "You sure change your tune quickly," she muttered.

Varric shrugged. "It's part of my charm."

* * *

_"_ Enough about me and Hawke—honestly, you're like an old gossipy maid, sometimes!" Isabela said as they walked through Lowtown.

Varric laughed. "Me, gossip? Perish the thought."

"Hmm." She gave him a sideways glance. "What about you? Got your eye on anyone?"

"Nah," Varric said, "I've already got Bianca, here, and she's the jealous type, I wouldn't want to upset her."

Isabela raised her eyebrows. "Varric, please, deflection tactics don't work on me."

"Who says I'm deflecting?"

"I'm not _stupid_ , Varric," Isabela said, rolling her eyes, "I know deflection when I hear it."

Varric grinned. "As a frequent user of the technique yourself, I don't doubt it."

"Ooh, low blow," Isabela said.

"Hey, I'm a dwarf, I just hit from where I'm standing."

Isabela snorted. "Short jokes, from you?"

"Sure, why not?" Varric shrugged.

They walked down the twisting path that led into the alienage, taking the stairs slowly. "Was Bianca your girlfriend?" Isabela asked, giving him an expectant look.

Varric chuckled. "Maker, you don't give up! No, I never had a girlfriend named Bianca. It was the name of the boat I rode in on when I was a kid, the first time I came to Kirkwall. Bit of a landmark event, you know? Anyway, it's a good name, Bianca. Figured if it works for a boat, it works for a crossbow."

"How romantic," Isabela said dryly.

* * *

"Why don't you just tell them to stop asking about it?" Hawke said one night, as they walked through the silent, darkened streets, feet aching from a long day out.

"What?" Varric said mildly. Hawke shot him an impatient look. "About Bianca? Eh, I don't mind, it's—"

"About your love life."

Implication: _You_ r complete lack of interest in one. Varric gave a laugh that was a little too bright. "No one's asking about my _love life_ , Hawke."

"Mm. Because they all think you're heart-broken over some girl named Bianca. Why don't you just tell them to mind their own damn business?"

Their footsteps echoed loudly as the street narrowed; Varric made a quiet noise, a huff of a laugh. "Hawke, nothing attracts questions like making it clear you don't want any questions. And let me tell you, some people have never _heard_ of the word 'no'. _'Oh Varric, why don't you want to meet my beautiful niece? She can play 15 different instruments and has hair as tall as a horse!'"_

Hawke snorted. "Right. I see your point."

"Yeah. Plus, making up an entire spouse is harder than you'd think. Better to just let their imaginations run wild, and tweak things as I go."

"You _are_ good at that." They came to a stop outside the Amell mansion, Hawke's eyes falling on a lit-up window on the second floor. "If you do change your mind, though, I'm sure I can think of a few threats that would make people back off."

"Maker, no!" Varric laughed, "were you even listening? No threats!"

"Suit yourself," Hawke said, mouth twitching up in a half-smile. She stepped into the doorway, pulling the door open. "Do you want to come in?"

"Me, visiting your house in the dead of night?" Varric joked, though it felt forced even to him. "Whatever will people say?"

Hawke gave him a pointed look. "That I have terrible taste in friends."

And  _that_ surprised a chuckle out of him. "Can't really argue with that." He gave one last look out at the dark, quiet streets, then shrugged, mouth curling into an instinctive smile as he glanced at his friend. "Alright, fine, but I refuse to drink any more of that terrible wine you've got stashed away in your kitchen."

"That's fine. I think Sandal set it on fire, anyway."


End file.
